Sail Me Away In A House Of Birds
by birdylierenisaway
Summary: "All the creatures she would love to frolic with and keep, neatly caged in an 8" by 6" paper house of stories." I'll keep working at it, but currently incomplete. Feedback is adoration and appreciated. R&R, I suppose.


**Cheers. Boop. Smileyface.**

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To the child's fuzzy, short-sighted eyes, the bright koi swimming frantically away from her touch appeared more like falling, shimmering gold coins than fish. She

removed her hand calmly, before swinging sandaled feet into the pool and causing another wave of panic among the koi. She had been sitting at the pool so

long that her pale thick fingers were pruned almost to her knuckles. The whole morning had been spent feeding koi and cleaning debris from their pool. No

matter how thoroughly she cleaned it, however, it never reached the gem-like clarity and pureness of the fairy pools in her novels. One of such tomes was

squished between drawn,dog-eared papers in a cat-bedecked backpack to her immediate right. This book didn't have a title, as she had received it used and

without a dust-jacket, a hand-me down Christmas gift. It was a little ragged, juice-stained, and worn-out from overuse, yet it was the finest thing in existence

to the girl, a voiceless pet that would tell her of wrights, ghasts, Black Dogs, selkies,and kelpies. All the creatures she would love to frolic and keep, neatly caged

in an 8" by 6"paper house of stories. She raised her gaze from the pool, a rather intent look passing over her eyes. Her hand absentmindedly picked up her

school bag from a much-mended side-strap and she shuffled towards her house, now intent on a new fixation: receive approval in order to try and find a fairy in

the forest. These sudden shifts of focus were completely natural in her, nothing but her books could catch her interest for very long. She picked her way

through the overgrown grass and shook off her sandals on the pristine "Welcome" mat underneath the back door of the house. She froze, her stomach roiling

uncomfortably. Someone was singing along to droning jazz. She hated jazz. She knew who loved jazz. Just a little irritated, she flung open the door and into the

kitchen. The warm smell of toasted, syrupy wheat and lavender invaded her nostrils, so concentrated it almost made her sick. Grandmother was humming

hoarsely to the tune of the music, her rough and high-pitched voice a jarring contrast to her benign features and flowery sundress. Crisp cinnamon rolls lay

steaming on the kitchen counter, as Grandmother smothered them in buttercream icing, strands of her black hip-length hair sticking in the sugary

irritation melted away into pleasure, she had something sweet to look forward to in the evening. "Grandmother, is it alright if I go and play

outside the backyard?" She asked, normal circumstances, Lottie would never ask a question such as this, as it would only make Grandmother

unhappy with her. But it was a couple of days before her birthday, so perhaps Grandmother would let her go. That was the way Grandmother always was.

Everything was nicer and better in the days approaching her birthday. Grandmother looked back at her in mild surprise, as if she hadn't noticed her walk in. She

wiped her sticky hands on a tablecloth, a smile resting pleasantly on her smooth face, "You bored already, honey?" She said, "I thought you'd be messing with

those fish a while longer." The child shook her head calmly. Grandmother tilted her head, her expression a strange potpourri of emotions that the child could not

all read. She did recognize two: solemnity and amusement. Stark contrasts. "Honey, you can run around wherever you like. Ain't anything gonna happen to

you." She responded, the last sentence murmured as if to herself, "As long as you're back by dinnertime, no nagging will be heard from me. But don't let me

catch you outside our grounds, you hear me?" She warned, her head jutting upwards authoritatively. The child nodded again, obediently, "Yes, Grandmother."

Inside, she almost felt that this walk would be more enjoyable than tending to koi.

It was the insects that shot her down from the mountaintops of euphoria. And almost everything else about the woods as well. Her baggy, polka-dotted jeans

snagged on furry, curled tendrils of some malignant weed that infested the forest. Mosquitoes whined and whizzed about her ears as a cluster of small red ant

chomped on her ankles. The overbearing heat and humidity that stemmed from a strong summery day did nothing to soothe her hurts. She crawled over to a

relatively insect-free patch of undergrowth and settled there, breathing unsteadily. She checked her watch. Thirty minutes since the start of her hike and she

had not even glimpsed a stray brownie. This forest seemed rather fairy-less, which to her, was almost unthinkable. All woods were infested with fairies, all the

tales said so. She got up, lips set in a straight line. She wouldn't be able to come back to the woods in heaven knows when, she had to find at least one fairy.

The shadows of the trees grew another couple of inches.

The child was now alternating between thoughtful pacing and slapping around her ears. Nothing. She remembered reading in her favorite tome of fairies that

they only showed themselves to the unique and white of heart. They liked perfection, intelligence, imagination. They only showed themselves that they found

wealthy in all of these aspects. The talented, the stopped, rubbing at her eyes and cheeks furiously as she stumbled back to the ground, hunching her shoulders

and hugging her knees. A small spot in her chest was starting to hurt. Anxiety was pricking and pulling away at her mind. She wouldn't be able to come back

outside in the forest again, she knew that. She had thought of asking permission to leave the backyard several times, but she had never dared voiced this

question aloud until today. Her grandmother had complied with her request, and knowing her, this chance was not to be given twice. She was offered and

opportunity beyond excellent for the first and only time, and she was not unique enough to take and make use of it. A question she had never considered

suddenly burst out form the bubble of nervousness in her mind. No, it was a statement.

" _I'm not special?"_

The shade around her thickened. It was an hour to dinnertime. And Grandmother did say-

She was too tired to walk, and so she lurched through the thicket, blazing tears filling up around her eyes before being forced back down into her chest, and the

stinging spot residing there expanded.

It was through her teary, already weakened eyes that she caught a glimpse of a small shape huddled near a twisted live oak. She thought, dully, that perhaps it

was an injured bird. Or a dead bird. She should leave it, the thing probably wouldn't even accept her help. And what help could she even give?

'A kind soul wouldn't leave a creature in pain. Not a good soul. Not an unusual soul.'

She hung her head, scrunching up her face ashamedly. One step, one step more, another step, and a bow. The thing that she mistook for an avian creature

was nothing of the sort. Nor was it a mammal, reptile, or something of the good magic.

It was a smooth, living, gasping lump of monster, trembling like a puppy. No monster trembled like a puppy.

It was a special monster.

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 **I wrote this with the full intention of "Sail Me Away In A House of Birds" to be an angsty vignette filled with typos and stutters.**

 **I kinda wanna write more for it.**

 **Review is love. Criticism is more than welcome.**

 **I'm hella tired, so I ain't gonna write no more. Aye.**

 **Cheerio and fruit loops~**


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